


N: Níðhöggr

by XX_CALIBRE



Series: Pykja Vænt Um [14]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:02:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28049685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XX_CALIBRE/pseuds/XX_CALIBRE
Summary: None could survive the flames.
Relationships: Eivor/Vili
Series: Pykja Vænt Um [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024777
Kudos: 17





	N: Níðhöggr

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to **[Myriath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myriath/pseuds/Myriath)** for the title!

There is another attack in Hemsthorpe, and it is of no surprise that the best fighters of Ravensthorpe come to Trygve’s aid. The Picts have grown ruthless, targeting all. Children, women, and men alike.

The bloodshed. The torment. The screams. The anger. Never has Eivor seen such _anger_ in Vili. His eyes, no longer gleaming with glee but flaring with fury. Never has Eivor seen Vili throw his great axe away and opt for double daggers—the man was _quick_. Slicing through the dozens of Picts, he swore vengeance upon the losses, the deaths.

Sometimes, Eivor would find Vili going astray… only to realise he was sending his brethren to Valhalla. Eivor would protect Vili’s sorry arse as he sent those he knew— _they_ knew to Odin’s Great Hall.

But Níðhöggr is gnawing at the root of his world.

A woman breaks through the two-man defence when Eivor and Vili are distracted with their many weaker members of the party. Eivor and Vili cut through them like a hot knife on butter but their speed… _too slow_.

Níðhöggr feasts on the root of Vili’s world.

The longhouse erupts into bright, scorching flames. The sound of manic laughter rings through the burning wood. A gleam of a weapon bursts through the heat.

Vili has his dagger ready and armed, the longhouse starts to collapse—

“ _TRYGVE_!”

No man could survive the flames.

Eivor has to drag Vili out, pulling the man further and further away. He tries his best to ignore Vili’s ridiculous pleas. He tries his best to ignore the way Vili’s voice breaks.

_None_ could survive the flames.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eivor sees crimson. Might be the woman’s… might be his. They don’t know. Eivor doesn’t want to know. Not yet. He needs to get Vili away.

“Vili! Come back to your senses, we are not done here!” Eivor shouts, nearly begs his husband to come back. “Vili Hemmingson!”

Níðhöggr must be pleased.

“You _sick_ , cursed bacrauts! He was like a—”

“‘A father to me’! Yes, Hemmingson! He was! I would do this again forever if it means I get to see that shameful look on your face!”

The woman who charged through Eivor and Vili like Aelfred’s Battlle-Sow appears from the flame, her body burnt to a _fucking_ crisp… _and yet she still moves._ In her hold was a head. In her grasp was a head. Cut clean and yet bathed in scarlet. Eivor’s eyes went from her burnt face to the face painted in crimson.

_No_.

“Hemsthorpe is _mine_.”

Eivor steps in front of Vili, his own killer intent roaring in his blood. “You sick _bastard_.” Ravensthorpe’s Jarl barely breathed the last word when a dagger sunk into her forehead.

Eivor turns around, his arms immediately stretched to stop Vili from meeting the ground. Eivor staggers on his feet, eyes searching. No enemies. They survive. Eivor staggers on his feet, hands searching. Vili’s unharmed. “Arse-stick, _please_. Don’t do this. Not now.”

Níðhöggr _is_ pleased. 

“Arse-stick—”

“That was his head, was it not?” Tears. In Vili’s eyes.

“Vili—”

“Tell me that _it was not him_!”

Tears. In Eivor’s eyes. “I am sorry, Vili.”

Níðhöggr is finally free.

“It was him.”


End file.
